


2019 Advent Calendar Drabble Collection

by mrshays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bittersweet, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Demon Dean Winchester, Domestic, Drabbles, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts, Karaoke, M/M, NotFunnyDean's Supernatrual Advent Calendar 2019, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Snowed In, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21634741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrshays/pseuds/mrshays
Summary: This is a collection of 25 100-word holiday-themed drabbles based on the prompts fromNotFunnyDean's Advent Calendar 2019!Check back each day in December for a new 100-word drabble!Now complete!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 7
Collections: SPN Advent Calendar 2019





	2019 Advent Calendar Drabble Collection

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Dear Readers and welcome to my works for NotFunnyDean's 2019 SPN Advent Calendar!
> 
> Check back each day in December for a new 100-word drabble!
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading! I've had such a fun time writing them! ⛄

**[NotFunnyDean's Advent Calendar 2019!](https://notfunnydean.tumblr.com/post/189087609270/supernatural-advent-calendar-2019) **

**01\. Snow Globe**

Plastic flurries ricochet around the glass sphere, falling, gently suspended in glycerin, onto the tiny replica Roadhouse. The snow finally settles only to be tipped again into tumult as Chuck winds the music box mechanism built into the base of the snow globe. He hums along to the familiar tune, placing it gently next to Becky’s floral-backed laptop and hovers over the keyboard for a few moments, letting the tinkling notes of Kansas envelope the room.

He admits to himself, alone in this shrine, surrounded by his creations, that perhaps Becky was right about his ending…

…but…

…then again…

…nah.

  
**02\. Blizzard**

Stark white settles over the Montana hunting cabin. The weather had turned several hours before, and now the Winchesters find themselves a little stir-crazy, waiting for the moment they can dig themselves out of the winter wonderland. Dean wonders for the nth time why there isn’t some snow-blowing spell they can use but realizes any spell ingredients are buried in Baby’s trunk. At least he threw a tarp over her before all this started. Small blessings.

“You think Cas would bring us bacon?”

“Wouldn’t you rather him transport us out of here, Dean?”

“And risk the constipation, no thanks, man.”

  
**03\. Advent Wreath**

Pastor David Gideon lights the first purple candle nestled within the evergreen wreath atop his dining table. He sits in the single chair and opens his Holy Book to Revelations, reciting a passage that gives him great strength when pondering the fate God has set upon him.

“ _These shall make war with the Lamb, and the Lamb shall overcome them: for he is Lord of lords, and King of kings: and they that are with him are called, and chosen, and faithful.”_

The Pastor closes his book, and sets it aside, tucking into his advent supper alone still without Leah.

  
**04\. Eggnog (1 of 3)**

The night before Christmas, all through the Bunker, guests grooved to Zeppelin, partaking in hunter’s helper. 

Dean was of the impression that their first Christmas in the Bunker was cause for celebration. He had called every hunter in Bobby’s contacts and their own to Kansas to spend the holiday season underground. He and Sam had laundered every bedspread and pillowcase, eagerly awaiting their guests’ arrival. 

Sam eyed Dean from across the library as a mug of eggnog was handed to him. Sam watched him take a sip – then lost it as Dean sputtered the rum-soaked beverage all over Jody.

  
**05\. Christmas Party (2 of 3)**

After the hunters had retired to their rooms, Dean found himself alone in the bunker’s kitchen, rinsing beer bottles; not quite ready to call it quits. He was full of pent-up energy and he knew that if the housework kept till morning, the bunker would never be clean again. He made two laps of the trafficked areas and came back, arms laden in dishware to his favorite angel, elbow-deep in soap suds, his trench coat slung neatly over a nearby chair. Dean set the dishes next to the basin and grabbed a towel, happy to save his fingers from pruning.

  
**06\. Angel (3 of 3)**

Dean stacked the last mug on its tray near the coffee pot and turned back to Castiel. He held out the angel’s coat, but Castiel didn’t move to take it. Instead, he passed by Dean and down the hall. Dean heard the snores and whispers of his fellow hunters and felt a smile on his lips for the first time in months. Castiel made the turn into Dean’s room and closed the door behind the hunter, taking his coat and slipping it on the hook behind the door. They undressed in silence, and finally slipped into bed.

“Merry Christmas, Angel.”

  
**07\. Ghost of Future X-mas**

When Bobby called with a salt-n-burn in Snowflake, Arizona, Sam and Dean hadn’t given it much thought, just packed extra rock salt shells for the shotgun and gassed up. Now though, crowbar held aloft, Dean wished he’d asked more questions. He flicked his lighter into the pile of robes and chains, breathing hard and focused on his task. Sam limped into the room crowbar ready, just as the flames started to engulf their vengeful spirit. It may have been comical under different circumstances, killing the literal Ghost of Christmas Future, but right then, they were just happy to be alive.

  
**08\. Tinsel**

Sam trudged through the door, freshly showered and eager to collapse into bed, maybe sleep for eight to ten years. The banshee they killed in Iowa had put up a helluva fight. 

He didn’t bother with the lights, dropping his towel and pulling on a pair of boxers, couldn't resist prodding the bruises covering him as he peeled back the covers on the bed and lowered himself gingerly onto the sheets. Sheets that were covered in prickly, itchy, awfulness. Sam leaped from bed and flipped the lamp, aches forgotten.

“Dean!” he hollered, gripping large fistfuls of tinsel.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy!”

  
**09\. Mistletoe Kiss**

"Hey man, you might want to go through the kitchen to get to the library," Sam tells Castiel with a conspiratorial wink. 

Castiel doesn't understand the sentiment behind the younger Winchester's words but turns to head in the advised direction.

He rounds the corner to the kitchen and barrels into Dean, who grunts, stammering, eyes drifting above the doorway. A blush spreads across his cheeks. Castiel kisses him quick and sweet. Dean tastes whipped cream and pumpkin pie, and Cas can't help but tease, "We don't need mistletoe to kiss, Dean. But on the other hand, it is rather festive."

**10\. Chimney**

Castiel is supposed to be cleaning the chimney, not in anticipation of Santa, but because he'd noticed a slight burning smell the last time it was lit and put the task on his self-imposed Honey-Do List. The colloquialism makes him smile, thinking of the bees that helped heal his mind. 

He sighs again, staring at the photo he pulled from the mantel some time ago, and traces his forefinger across Jack's face, wishing more than anything they had another Christmas together. He would gladly trade places with the boy, but it seems the Empty's bargain will forever keep them apart.

**11\. Christmas Story**

There’s a box in the depths of the bunker labeled “Christmas Decorations” that Sam doesn’t _think_ is haunted, but also can’t be sure. He shoves the box back onto its shelf and jogs up the stairs to find Dean already halfway through _A Christmas Story_ , leg lamp displayed proudly next to the pawnshop television. 

“If you didn’t bring me a Red Ryder BB Gun, get out,” Dean says from his recliner. 

Sam ignores him, and steps into the room, collapsing into his own chair. 

“You think you could really kill anything with a BB gun?” Sam scoffs. 

“Demonic squirrel, maybe?”

**12\. Elves**

“Dean, we can’t keep doing this every year,” Sam grumbles, assembling an elaborate vignette of their last werewolf hunt with red felted elves. He grimaces at the jolly mischievous face and adds more corn syrup blood to its imaginary fangs. That’s going to stain. 

“I thought we had an agreement: you get to keep your stupid holiday tradition of the Elf on the Shelf, as long as there’s more guts and gore,” Dean explains from across the room, where his elves were engaged in combat with Elf Santa. “Besides, this looks frickin’ awesome!” He adds, stepping back from his scene.

**13\. Grinch**

A collective groan rings out across the bar as the opening notes of _You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch_ ring out through the speakers for the forty-seventh time that night. Dean, in all his red-flannel, perfectly-coiffed glory growls at them from the karaoke stage. They shut up and endure the two minutes of auditory torture. 

It wouldn’t be so bad if the King of Sinful Sots didn’t subject the audience members to each of the Grinch’s horrific descriptions, but you can only have termites in your smile, or your brain filled with spiders so many times before you go crazy. 

**14\. The Nutcracker (1 of 2)**

There’s a crate in the bowels of the bunker labeled “The Nutcracker” and for all Dean’s off-color jokes about what could be inside, when the crate is finally opened, all that’s there is exactly what it says on the tin.It should have been a letdown but in actuality, it’s this beautiful solid wood, perfectly crafted traditional figure that makes its home on the bunker’s mantel.

It is splendid on its perch, despotizing over all who set eyes upon it. For if the Winchesters had turned the crate around, they would have found the side label that warned: _Extremely Cursed_.

  
**15\. Cookies (2 of 2)**

The bunker is permeated with the smell of Christmas cookies. Baby’s leather seats smell like sprinkles. The Winchesters have baked and decorated approximately twenty-two dozen cookies. The ingredients keep showing up in the cupboards each time they’re opened for a new batch. Sam and Dean are covered in sweat and smiling with macabre grins. It’s terrifying. Dean prays to Castiel in desperation and the angel appears, the wind from his wings displacing the Nutcracker, and splintering it on the concrete below. The Winchesters jolt, the curse finally broken. Castiel burns the Nutcracker while Dean shoves three cookies in his mouth. 

  
**16\. Secret Santa**

“So get this: Garth invited us to Secret Santa again,” Sam announced, waving the gaudy invitation and setting the rest of the junk mail on the map table. 

“When will he learn we’re just not the gift-giving type,” Dean groused, picking up then quickly dropping the invitation when silvery shimmers stuck to his fingers. “Ya think Bess made these?”

“No way. Garth was always shedding glitter around the holidays. Remember that time those vamps tracked us through the woods ‘cause of the trail he left?”

“Oh man, yeah! And I thought _blood_ was a bitch to get out of flannel!”

  
**17\. Reindeer Games**

“Who’s the most relatable character in a Christmas movie?” Claire asks everyone gathered around the fire in Jody’s living room.

“Rudy Duncan,” Dean declares. 

The room gives him a collectively blank look. Just as he’s about to school everyone on a solid decision, Cas beats him to it.

“Yes, I can see where Dean makes a valid point: the need for that apple pie life, his love of a warm beverage and pecan pie. Even his foil is the love interest’s brother, Gabriel. A case of life imitating art, right dear?”

“Exactly,” Dean answers with a smooch to Cas’s lips.

  
**18\. Ugly X-mas Onesies**

Dean always gives the prankiest gifts, but every year, Sam holds out for the one time he might get something actually thoughtful. This year’s package is in a hefty box that feels, well, squishy. He doesn’t want to open it, but Dean counts down from three, ripping Christmas paper revealing two plain white boxes. Sam knows Dean’s getting a new gun cleaning kit, but his own gift is still a mystery. 

Sam lifts the lid apprehensively, revealing a lump of pink fur that opens to a huge bunny onesie. 

“Put it on, Sammy,” Dean cackles, “It’s custom. Moose-sized.” 

Sam groans.

  
**19\. North Star**

The north star used to be a waypoint for Dean, but ever since Chuck went and fucked everything, Dean thinks the star might be mocking him instead.

He remembers being lost in wintery woods, on a wendigo hunt, and using the star to guide him back to Baby’s obstructed parking spot on the highway roadside. The star’s light had brought him a sense of comfort – _just keep it on the left, and you’ll be a-ok_.

Now, though, it reminds him that free will is dead, that nothing will ever be right gain. And even if it was, he’s changed, irrevocably.

  
**20\. Holiday Tunes**

“ _Rudolph with your nose so bri-ght..._ ”

Dean only uses John’s tape deck on rare occasions - he’s happy listening to the same box of mullet rock for the rest of his life, thank you very much. 

The last time he dusted off the OFX Shoebox was Christmas ‘07 when he’d heard a holiday rendition of Zepp’s _Misty Mountain Hop_ on a rugaru milk run. Back at the motel, he’d scoured the internet on a thrift shop laptop; painstakingly hooked the tape deck to it and recorded the song. It’s the only holiday tune Baby knows.

“... _won’t you guide my sleigh to-ni-ght_?”

  
**21\. Home Alone**

Ed Zeddmore only watched _Home Alone_ once when he was twelve before he stated setting traps in the family home. His parents were shocked to say the least. They had no idea when Ed watched the film – they thought it was too violent.

That Spangler boy was always up to something though, and in fact had shown their sweet son the Culkin classic.

This was all discovered, of course, after the Zeddmore patriarch was found at the foot of the stairs, covered in water and feathers plucked from Maggie’s craft kit. Ed was grounded (but still opened presents Christmas day). 

  
**22\. Mister Scrooge**

The hell hound’s breath is sticky-hot on the back of Sam’s neck. It’s here for the man who’s shut up in his house. Sam though is out in the brightly lit yard – one of those neighborhoods that go all out during the holidays. He’s suddenly thankful for the garish decorations: the lights provide enough glow to see at the late hour and the blanket of snow let him track the hound’s pawprints. They’re close when the thing lunges and Sam grabs the nearest decoration – a plastic Ebenezer Scrooge – to jam in the beast’s maw before ganking it with the Colt.

  
**23\. Late X-mas Shopping**

Dean didn’t realize how huge moose were until there was one standing right in front of him. 

Pissed off. 

In the bunker. 

Antlers tangling in the overhead lights and rear end knocking over a bookcase. In hindsight, perhaps giving Sam a cursed firearm from the Men of Letters’ box of junk wasn’t the best idea. But when you wait until Christmas Eve to get your giant baby brother a gift, what the hell do you expect, really? As Sammoose turns to charge Dean, fire in his eyes, he thinks maybe another skin mag from the Gas ‘n Sip would’ve sufficed.

  
**24\. Worst Present**

When Dean was old enough to ask Bobby why their dad hadn’t come to get him and Sammy, the bearded man had adjusted his grimy ballcap and sat the boy down; told him the truth about his old man. He had a vendetta, a word Dean figured meant that his dad would kill the man who killed Dean’s mother. The thought kept Dean up for months, until John finally dragged his ass back to South Dakota for Christmas. Dean gave him a box of ammo for the Colt he’d stolen from a bait shop. It was a terrible, thoughtful gift.

  
**25\. Candlelight**

The Queen of Hell, hair illuminated by candlelight, utters the same spell each winter solstice, though its benefactors will never know. The incantation is a simple one; it's ingredients much the same: a flame, a few words, and a witch. 

She gutters the flame, the wick trailing purple smoke, and leans back into her throne, satisfied that the Winchesters and those they love will see another year unharmed. 

Well, mostly anyway.

Ingredients neatly packed into their bottles and bags, tucked into their shelves and cases, Rowena gives the order for the demons to commence her solstice treat: torturing her ex-lovers.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers, and a very happy holiday season to you! Thanks to those of you who came back each day, it's been a pleasure posting these little drabbles for you!
> 
> Special thanks to NotFunnyDean for putting together this year's [prompt list](https://notfunnydean.tumblr.com/post/189087609270/supernatural-advent-calendar-2019) and for reserving day three of their own advent calendar for me! 
> 
> Please leave a number in the comments with your favorite drabble, I love hearing from you! 
> 
> Until next time, wishing you all a safe and happy New Year! 🎉


End file.
